Dance with me
by equine02
Summary: A soldier comes home. Revised, extended, paired with "they called him Will"
1. They called him Will

**Hello wonderful readers! This is for the Billy Nelson fans out there! Please R &R! Tissue alert! No slash, just comradely love. It helps if you have watched the episode "The Celebrity" to understand part of the conversation. This is the revised version, so there are some differences from the other one.**

 **Disclaimer: never have owned them, probably never will. It's really too bad, Saunders would look so neat in a tux... A girl can dream... Oh, PM me if there is an episode where he does wear a tux, that would be a dream come true!**

Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.

 **John 15:13**

He seemed to know it right away. When he looked into his eyes, when the wounded soldier looked back. As he struggled to talk. He must have known as it happened, and it was evident he knew now.

"Sarge," the soldier heaved a breath, eyes wide in pain. His breaths were short and sounded wet and tired, laboriously executed. "I didn't- you aren't hit are ya?" he coughed. The other man glance over at the dead Kraut, rifle still smoking in hand as he lay sprawled out on the ground. The man's own gun felt hot and heavy in his hands, several of its bullets having been used to take down the enemy.

"Nah, Billy, I'm fine. See? You saved my life. Easy, easy." He pushed the anxious boy down. Billy blinked "Sarge…." His eyes. They were so afraid, childlike almost. So tired, and done with war and fighting, constant barrage, constant death, "I'm scared."

"You'll be okay. Don't try and move, Doc will be here soon. Don't talk."

"Sarge, I wannto…" his words slurred, "wannto see Mother. And wannto see my kid brother…. Wannto-aghhh!" he writhed. The Sarge tried to quiet him, but he kept on with his ranting, "Oh, I want to see home, 'gain, and Evelyn, and my Dad!" he was crying, "m'scared to die."

"You're not going to die, Billy." The Sarge felt a tear on his cheek, running down the side of his nose. Billy's dad had died months ago. "You'll see, everything will be fine. And I bet you'll get one of them fine purple hearts, and a one-way ticket stateside. Lucky duck. And, of course, you'll get to see everybody again. Don't worry, you're gonna see all those guys back home, and they'll buy you drinks and you'll get to play-act like your side hurts you, just to show off. And all those girls will follow you… course you'll be with Evelyn, but it's a dandy thought. It'll be swell, just wait. Doc will patch you up nice and tight, and you'll get yourself back on your feet in no time. You'll be able to tell the story to your kid brother."

"You were...listenin' that night? With Littlejohn? When Packer was here?" Billy's face was covered in sweat, and blood flowed from his side with horrible abundance.

"Yeah. And I think it'll be just like that, just like you said it was for your friend."

"You do?" his face became taught with pain. Billy was fading faster than Saunders would have liked. In truth, he didn't want him to be fading at all.

"Yup." the Sarge brushed Billy's hair out of his eyes.

"But Sarge," a tear slid out of the corner of Billy's eye, "Hurts. Bad." He coughed again, blood this time.

"I know it does." Sarge had to lean close to the kid to hear his next words.

"W-hats… your first name…" he whispered. "I never knew it. Me… an' an' t'he guys…. Always called you… 'Sarge.' Wanna know th' name of the man…. I died for…" he grinned weakly, still obviously halfway through the door of sanity and delirium, "not that im braggin' or anythin'."

Saunders heart broke a little. "Chip. My name's Chip. Your not gonna die, kid." He took his hand, "Billy?"

"Mmmm?"

"What did your kid brother call you?" _I have to keep the kid talking, keep him awake, t_ hough by then he'd screamed for the medics several times now. He was more afraid then, than he have ever been, afraid for this innocent life that was going so quickly.

"Will. Thas' what he called me. Will. He's, uh… thirteen, I think… don' r'member. Gotta write'a'letter…" his eyes began to roll up into his head, and Saunders snapped to attention, slapping Billy's face wildly.

"Billy, wake up, you can't sleep! Billy," He cried, panicked, "can I call you Will?"

"Yeah…" he exhaled harshly, going out of focus again.

"Will!" the Sarge slapped him harder.

Billy's eyes were suddenly very focused.

"Chip…? Can I call you that? C'n I call you Chip?" he asked.

Saunders nodded, clenching the smaller hand in his own desperately.

"Chip, you're eyes are very blue…." He smiled, all attentions suddenly on Saunders face, especially his eyes, "Chip, m'not afraid anymore."

Then the Sarge knew, the boy he was is gone.

He knew.


	2. Dance with me

**I know I promised the other fic, but this one was eating at me. Spur-of-the-moment writer thing…. Hey, if anybody asks me what's wrong with me, I'll just say I have SOTMWT: Spur-of-the-moment-writer-thing! Anyway, enjoy! BTW, I was crying while I was writing this one- I'm way too soft.**

 **Disclaimer: Not a single one do I own.**

She didn't have time to look pretty anymore; since the war had started, helplessness had set in. Men had come and gone, some of them forever. She felt selfish brushing her hair, putting on a clean, nice dress.

Her usual curls felt lank and dull. Her eyes, which were in another life had been strong and intelligent, were now dimmed from worry. The posture of grace and excitement was gone, now her interests were only to see one person come home safe. She'd lost hope for all the others. They had faded; her two brothers killed in an air raid… her father already dead to the world, long before this war. He'd been that way ever since the first one, and nothing had changed. Oh, she tried. Really, truly. She talked to him, and kissed him on the cheek when she walked past. Her mother often cried about it, when she thought her daughter couldn't hear her. There were always days like that. Missing, and longing all mixed together till she felt half crazy. How could she wait? How long could a war go on, before everyone was dead?

He felt that way too sometimes. Lonely, finished with war. When the pain got too much, and he wanted to scream out, that's when it hit him most. The nights, the lonely, freezing nights, during which he'd curl in on himself and shudder with cold. His buddies wouldn't understand him, even if they knew. He didn't care to try and explain. His suffering was so great in his mind that it had crippled his feelings. Yes, he put on a fake-front every day. He lied every day. After he'd been badly wounded, he'd forgotten how it felt to be loved. Cared for, sure, by his comrades- but it was a different kind he had so long hoped for, one he feared he could not get.

* * *

He was still recovering from his recent surgery due to the injury, when the Sarge stopped by. He'd faked sleep, too tired to answer questions, to build up his wall of fake cheeriness.

"Hiya, kid."

He peered through mostly closed lids as the Sarge sat down.

"I've got some news for you. A letter…. But I'll leave it here." Sarge shifted his weight. "I-uh, guess we'll be saying goodbye to ya. You're going home… you got yourself a purple heart, and you're going to get to go back to the states. What'd'you think of that?"

He watched the Sarge smile in the way he'd smiled so many times- faint, but still obviously there, in his eyes, even if his mouth didn't.

"Well, I'll let you rest. See you soon, kid."

And he was gone.

* * *

She stood by the window, looking down on the street. It was empty and lonely, no houses seeming to hold life within. Even this one was drab and grey. The sky was bright white, shedding a light in the room like ice, and the shadows did a foxtrot across the floor.

"Hi."

She turned around, slowly. "I- I didn't see you coming up the street." She stepped forward slowly, praying it was him.

"I came through the back… I-"

He walked into the light. She began to cry. He was the same as ever, boyish face, dark brown hair… only he walked with a tiredness, and grown-up way about him. The corner of a thick, white bandage peeked out between the buttons of his shirt.

"Oh, should you be-"

"I shouldn't." he took her face in his hands, wiping away her tears, "But I want to."

She was as beautiful as when he'd last left her on the train platform, tears rolling down her cheeks, a sad smile on her face, just for show. Just for him.

"Evelyn…." He whispered, "Do you want to dance?"

 **Fin**


	3. Dreams

**Upon the encouragement of my dear reader Churchlady63, this chapter is put forth for your enjoyment. Now it's late, I can't find the previous chapter for reference, and I have had way too much sugar (again, I know) today. Pray for me…. In a few minutes, there may be a hole in my ceiling the size of me. I'm practically bounding off the walls. Also, too much Studio C is a very bad thing. Give me a shout-out if you watch that show, it's awesome. Yay Matt!**

 **Anyway, enjoy, comment, fav, follow… you know the spiel, and I love it when you do these things! It literally gives me tears of joy…**

 **Also, for this story, if I mention a episode that doesn't seem to fit in with the whole time thing, the is sort of AU, so that's that.**

 **Disclaimer: After these last few months, I am easily tricked into thinking I own them…. But now I wake to the nightmare my life has become, void of these people…. Aka, I really, truly, honestly, and unfortunately do not own them. If I did, there would be a Combat!, The Next Generation. Trust me.**

* * *

Days began to pass with slow succession. As his home town began to grow on him once again, though he still battled the horrific nightmares, and days when he didn't want to get up and live, there was so much to be seen that had changed since the war. Ladies now gathered at the train station to give out food to the soldiers with each passing transport; the papers held no small-talk anymore. Nowadays it was the latest news of the war, with the occasional obituary of some kind soul who'd passed on, which nobody but perhaps the soul itself would or could ever read without bursting into tears. One week there was even an article about him, with a picture of himself standing tall in his uniform. The headline read, HERO RETURNS HOME, ST. LOUIE WELCOMES BACK WILLIAM NELSON. Charlie had shown him that paper, and slapped him on the back. He left Billy forever thinking, 'Now we're even.'

It was the second time he'd been featured in a story, and probably the last time in his life…. _his body a living diary, bearing intelligible entries till the end of his days…. 'At Tros Anges I fought. I suffered - I nearly died.'_

Yes, St. Louie was just as he'd left it, only now through a shade that would darken his days forever. War. It still ate at him, his guilt flowing in unnatural patterns that hung in delicate balance between unbearable longing, and strange, detached grief. He recalled that night so long ago he was telling Littlejohn how he'd do anything for a Purple Heart and a one way ticked stateside… now he was guilty for leaving them behind.

For all he knew, any, God forbid all, of them could be dead. Captured. Tortured. And here he lived on- or tried to- in his hometown, safe from the terrible cruelty of a real world.

He was still healing, mind you. Being shot, anywhere, is no small thing. The torso is perhaps the most serious, and by far the most painful. But the guilt lay heavy on the shoulders of Billy, who never would shake it for anything.

* * *

One evening, about a week after Billy had kissed Evelyn, the young ex-soldier sat on the roof of the porch, which jutted out beneath his window, watching the sun give its last bows of the day.

In one hand, he held an apple, and in the other a small knife. He notched off bits of the fruit with the knife, and promptly pulled them off with his teeth.

His curtains rustled behind him from the window through which he'd clambered to get the roof in the first place. "Ryan?"

"Yeah, it's me." Billy's younger brother pretty much fell out the window. He landed on his nose, and quickly pushed himself up, settling next to his brother. "Will?"

"Yeah?" Billy, or 'Will', hacked off another chunk of apple and tossed it to Ryan, who deftly caught it. Billy smiled quietly. "What do you see out there?" The thirteen-year-old was getting lanky, and Billy had to resist teasing him about it.

"I see…. Trees. The sky. The horizon…."

"Yeah, but what's out there?"

"…..a war."

"What was it like, Will?" Ryan asked after a moment's hesitation.

Billy glanced down at his little brother. He lowered the apple and knife into his lap to think. "It was like… every bad thing, spread over a beautiful place. It was horrific sometimes…"

"But you seem okay…?" Ryan said cautiously.

"I am." He replied honestly, "Outside. I might never lose what I saw out there, kid. But it's what I'm seeing now, that is what I have to remember."

"It changed you."

"Huh?"

"You used to talk about baseball, and Evelyn. And we used to sit out here at night. Gee, remember that on time, when I was seven, and you brought out the radio, and we listened to the shows all night…" his words wandered so that he was soon not speaking at all. His eyes were fixed on the point straight ahead. East. If you just kept going straight in that direction, all across the ocean…. You'd eventually come into the scariest thing the world knew right now. Billy didn't want to keep inside what he felt the need to. For the safety of his family. His mother knew he'd never be "all right."

His father…. Well he liked to imagine he knew.

But Ryan. Oh, God, Ryan was so innocent. He had ambitions, and interests. He could name any star in the heavens- he could calculate better and faster than Billy ever could, or ever would. No, Ryan couldn't be one of them. One of those who was expected to do great things. The pressures he felt about being his mother's only son while her other was away fighting someone else's war, well, it had taught him a thing or two about growing up, Billy could see that. And those gifts shouldn't, and wouldn't be destroyed by war, not even tales of it.

To add to all ironies, Ryan spoke again, "Tell me what happened."

Billy felt his eyes sharpen as he focused on the dipping sun. The noises became low and mumbling as he honed in on that sound. What a precious sound. His brother's voice.

"How did it happen?" he asked again.

The older of the two tilted his head back and leaned against the outside of the house.

"Just exactly like anything happens. You dread it. It happens, it's over… and pretty soon you're trying to stand up again."

"Have you?"

"Have I what?"

"Stood up again," Ryan stopped looking to the east. "Have you?"

For a very long time there was silence. The sun forgot its purpose and began to slip into sleep which dragged it behind the horizon. The world turned softened grey, and crickets gave their tributes to a lovely St. Louis night. The air, just like he'd imagined it, like breathing in a mountain snow, only warm, and thick with the lilacs growing below on the back of mother-earth. Someone was playing the sax in the near-distance, and he listened with all of his human worth for a tune he could not understand. He finally spoke.

"I don't think I can, Ryan." He closed his eyes, unaware of the soft, innocent pair that now tracked his weary progress towards a deep, untouched sleep. Before he fell completely to the soft ashes of his mind, Billy mumbled, "I don't know if I ever will."

 **Once again, thanks for reading, and please, please, please, tell me what you think! I do this for you, people, for you! And it is now 1:22 in the morning, so, yeah… make this worth it, please! (not that you guys aren't worth it in general, it's just….)**


	4. Standing Up

**Upon the encouragement of my dear reader Churchlady63, this chapter is put forth for your enjoyment. Now it's late, I can't find the previous chapter for reference, and I have had way too much sugar (again, I know) today. Pray for me…. In a few minutes, there may be a hole in my ceiling the size of me. I'm practically bounding off the walls. Also, too much Studio C is a very bad thing. Give me a shout-out if you watch that show, it's awesome. Yay Matt!**

 **Anyway, enjoy, comment, fav, follow… you know the spiel, and I love it when you do these things! It literally gives me tears of joy…**

 **Also, for this story, if I mention a episode that doesn't seem to fit in with the whole time thing, the is sort of AU, so that's that.**

 **Disclaimer: After these last few months, I am easily tricked into thinking I own them…. But now I wake to the nightmare my life has become, void of these people…. Aka, I really, truly, honestly, and unfortunately do not own them. If I did, there would be a Combat!, The Next Generation. Trust me.**

* * *

Days began to pass with slow succession. As his home town began to grow on him once again, though he still battled the horrific nightmares, and days when he didn't want to get up and live, there was so much to be seen that had changed since the war. Ladies now gathered at the train station to give out food to the soldiers with each passing transport; the papers held no small-talk anymore. Nowadays it was the latest news of the war, with the occasional obituary of some kind soul who'd passed on, which nobody but perhaps the soul's at would or could ever read without bursting into tears. One week there was even an article about him, with a picture of himself standing tall in his uniform. The headline read, HERO RETURNS HOME, ST. LOUIE WELCOMES BACK WILLIAM NELSON. Charlie had shown him that paper, and slapped him on the back. He left Billy forever thinking, 'Now we're even.'

It was the second time he'd been featured in a story, and probably the last time in his life…. _his body a living diary, bearing intelligible entries till the end of his days…. 'At Tros Anges I fought. I suffered - I nearly died.'_

Yes, St. Louie was just as he'd left it, only now through a shade that would darken his days forever. War. It still ate at him, his guilt flowing in unnatural patterns that hung in delicate balance between unbearable longing, and strange, detached grief. He recalled that night so long ago he was telling Littlejohn how he'd do anything for a Purple Heart and a one way ticked stateside… now he was guilty for leaving them behind.

For all he knew, any, God forbid all, of them could be dead. Captured. Tortured. And here he lived on- or tried to- in his hometown, safe from the terrible cruelty of a real world.

He was still healing, mind you. Being shot, anywhere, is no small thing. The torso is perhaps the most serious, and by far the most painful. But the guilt lay heavy on the shoulders of Billy, who never would shake it for anything.

* * *

One evening, about a week after Billy had kissed Evelyn, the young ex-soldier sat on the roof of the porch, which jutted out beneath his window, watching the sun give its last bows of the day.

In one hand, he held an apple, and in the other a small knife. He notched off bits of the fruit with the knife, and promptly pulled them off with his teeth.

His curtains rustled behind him from the window through which he'd clambered to get the roof in the first place. "Ryan?"

"Yeah, it's me." Billy's younger brother pretty much fell out the window. He landed on his nose, and quickly pushed himself up, settling next to his brother. "Will?"

"Yeah?" Billy, or 'Will', hacked off another chunk of apple and tossed it to Ryan, who deftly caught it. Billy smiled quietly. "What do you see out there?" The thirteen-year-old was getting lanky, and Billy had to resist teasing him about it.

"I see…. Trees. The sky. The horizon…."

"Yeah, but what's out there?"

"…..a war."

"What was it like, Will?" Ryan asked after a moment's hesitation.

Billy glanced down at his little brother. He lowered the apple and knife into his lap to think. "It was like… every bad thing, spread over a beautiful place. It was horrific sometimes…"

"But you seem okay…?" Ryan said cautiously.

"I am." He replied honestly, "Outside. I might never lose what I saw out there, kid. But it's what I'm seeing now, that is what I have to remember."

"It changed you."

"Huh?"

"You used to talk about baseball, and Evelyn. And we used to sit out here at night. Gee, remember that on time, when I was seven, and you brought out the radio, and we listened to the shows all night…" his words wandered so that he was soon not speaking at all. His eyes were fixed on the point straight ahead. East. If you just kept going straight in that direction, all across the ocean…. You'd eventually come into the scariest thing the world knew right now. Billy didn't want to keep inside what he felt the need to. For the safety of his family. His mother knew he'd never be "all right."

His father…. Well he liked to imagine he knew.

But Ryan. Oh, God, Ryan was so innocent. He had ambitions, and interests. He could name any star in the heavens- he could calculate better and faster than Billy ever could, or ever would. No, Ryan couldn't be one of them. One of those who was expected to do great things. The pressures he felt about being his mother's only son while her other was away fighting someone else's war, well, it had taught him a thing or two about growing up, Billy could see that. And those gifts shouldn't, and wouldn't be destroyed by war, not even tales of it.

To add to all ironies, Ryan spoke again, "Tell me what happened."

Billy felt his eyes sharpen as he focused on the dipping sun. The noises became low and mumbling as he honed in on that sound. What a precious sound. His brother's voice.

"How did it happen?" he asked again.

The older of the two tilted his head back and leaned against the outside of the house.

"Just exactly like anything happens. You dread it. It happens, it's over… and pretty soon you're trying to stand up again."

"Have you?"

"Have I what?"

"Stood up again," Ryan stopped looking to the east. "Have you?"

For a very long time there was silence. The sun forgot its purpose and began to slip into sleep which dragged it behind the horizon. The world turned softened grey, and crickets gave their tributes to a lovely St. Louis night. The air, just like he'd imagined it, like breathing in a mountain snow, only warm, and thick with the lilacs growing below on the back of mother-earth. Someone was playing the sax in the near-distance, and he listened with all of his human worth for a tune he could not understand. He finally spoke.

"I don't think I can, Ryan." He closed his eyes, unaware of the soft, innocent pair that now tracked his weary progress towards a deep, untouched sleep. Before he fell completely to the soft ashes of his mind, Billy mumbled, "I don't know if I ever will."

 **Once again, thanks for reading, and please, please, please, tell me what you think! I do this for you, people, for you! And it is now 1:22 in the morning, so, yeah… make this worth it, please! (not that you guys aren't worth it in general, it's just….)**


	5. Green

**Alright, so inspiration struck me like crazy, and also, I found some incredible writing music. If you look up on YouTube, "writing music cello" it should be the first one, called "Relaxing piano violin music*piano and cello story* study music, relax, instrumental piano music." Amazing.**

 **Give it a listen, even while reading the beginning of this- the middle might not make as much sense, because it's not really the right setting. Just a note, if you do listen to it while reading, start it after the author's note, it works perfectly. I listened to it while writing this whole thing, and I hope it turned out as well as I think it did. Sorry for any mistakes. Please let me know if I did okay on this chapter…. For Billy? Please? Thanks! Also, this is dedicated once more to my lovely followers, who have been so supportive in all my writing pursuits. I really wouldn't be writing this if it wasn't for you guys, so thank you for everything. Aw, I think I'm all teared up… anyways, enjoy, comment, fav, follow, or all of the above if you are a super nice person… which I'm sure you are…. Hint, hint…. You aren't getting this, are you? Nope. Didn't think so…. okaaaay. Enough with the long authors notes, yeesh. I'm going to have to make a fic out of all of my authors notes one day, that would be fun….**

 **Disclaimer: Still, no. But I did take my creative license and gave Ryan the name Ryan.**

Billy woke up curled in a mess of arms and legs. Ryan's breathing was soft, and his eyes were closed to the mercy sweet sleep had brought. Gently, he shifted aside, and realizing they were both still out on the roof, he picked up his brother ever so gently and lifted him through the window onto Billy's own bed. Then he climbed through the window himself, donned a light brown jacket, and after checking that Ryan slept soundly, crept out the door.

* * *

Billy found himself out on open road pretty soon. The sun was barely up in the sky, and it cast a gentle, mellow light on the world. He paused, leaning up against a tree. The land fell before him like a painting. Soft greens, light blues that began to stain the edges of the sunrise. The houses below were small and tired looking. Like him.

He leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes, sinking down until he was sitting. So much had changed.

The things he cared about…. They were different. His whole childish look on life, which had always been there, cushioning the hardships- it was gone. His scars went deeper than just that. What he had left behind, everything and everyone.

But what he was coming into was that much greater. For anyone to truly love him like Evelyn did was a gift he had never considered. And somewhere inside his he was longing. To touch her soul with the piece of his he'd only just found. But did she feel that longing?

The kiss they'd shared, it had been like a moment of heaven. He almost laughed when he thought about the days before that kiss. They had been filled with tired waiting, hyper excitement barely concealed with charming smiles and the holding of hands.

When he opened his eyes again, the world was the same. Sitting there, it almost felt like there was no war. And he had a lovely feeling as he stood up and began to walk down that green-framed road, away from the tree.

He wanted to play ball.

* * *

"Yeah!" he ran over to Charlie, ditching his mitt along the way, "Did you see the look on that kid's face when I threw him that curve? Ohh." He cringed when his buddy patted him low in the back, sending a jolt of discomfort through him.

"Sorry," they began to walk over to the side of the field, where a grassy slope gave a perfect view of the game and a place to recline. "Hey, Billy, are you sure you should be doing this- eh, playing baseball, I mean."

"I'm fine, Charlie." He sat down slowly on the turf. "But your right, I'm gonna call it a day." He slid off his shoes and wiggled socked-toes. "So much better than those army boots, I'll tell you that."

"Yeah," Charlie replied, distracted.

"Okay. C'mon, spill it." Billy launched his cap at his friend, "What's eating you?"

"Ah, it's nothing, Bill."

' _What's that, Bill?'… 'When I write my kid brother and tell him-'_

"Billy?"

"Oh. Yeah?"

"You zoned out there for a minute."

"Yeah. Just thinking of someone who called me that."

"Oh. One of your buddies?"

"He was."

"What happened?"

"Uh, he got it."

"I'm sorry." Charlie squinted against the sun, one wrist hanging resting on his propped-up knee. He dropped his gaze to Billy's cap, which had landed nest to him. "Billy? I'll tell you what it is," He let out a breath, long and almost hopeful, "what's been eatin' me."

Billy turned his head to watch his friend.

"I'm no hero. It was a mistake, a kid's mistake, that's what got me back here. But you- you are a hero."

"Charlie let's not-"

"-no, let me finish… I- I tried so hard. So many times, after I came back here, to forget what I did, all those mistakes. I wasn't a good solider. I knew that." The two locked their gaze, "We both did."

Billy had to look away. His own guilt had begun to churn up inside, tightening his throat. The awakenings of his regrets, that he hadn't been more clever, quick like the Sarge… smart. Grown up. It hurt more than any bullet could.

"But when I got back, it was like the whole world was changing. Or, it had changed while I was gone. You know what I mean?"

Billy nodded.

"Do you remember that time we went to camping in the mountains with my uncle for three weeks, late winter, just to prove we could? We, ah, we lost track of time and were up there for almost a month. People thought we froze to death, and our mothers were so mad, we never went up there again. Well, remember how it was when we came down, and went to Uncle Carter's house… the grass was three feet tall, the sun was shining, all the snow was gone. The world was so _green_ , Billy, just like something from a paintin'. The azalea bushes were in full bloom, and the ivy leaves never looked bigger."

"I remember. Your Uncle never did cut that grass."

"No." Charlie chuckled softly, "He never did…." Eventually a shout rose up from one of the teams. "Looks like we lost," Charlie got up and cracked his knuckles, stretching.

Billy stood up slowly, pulling on his shoes.

"No Charlie…" he put a hand on his friend's shoulder lightly, "I think we won."

That was all that could be said, and the two began to walk back over to the game. Billy left his cap off, so he could feel the sun on his neck- so he could feel alive.

* * *

 _Her hands were so gentle as they bathed his wounds. The trenches- there was firing all around, but she stayed. While others died, she only worked diligently on him and kept wiping the blood away._

 _"Evelyn, you gotta go!" he screamed over the noise. She didn't listen. Her head suddenly jerked to the side, like she'd been slapped. She slowly turned back to him, hand on her cheek. "Billy?" her voice was a whisper through the bullet-shredded air. Her thin, pale hand came away from her face, and it was covered in blood, "Billy?!" she sounded afraid._

 _"It's only a graze, Evelyn! But you have to go!" He launched upright and covered her with himself as a grenade burst beside them. He could only feel the slickness of the ground beneath him from blood, the air so thick with smoke, hard to bear, the ache in his side. And Evelyn, sweet Evelyn, too still beneath his own trembling body._

Billy squinted into the darkness of the room. He dragged a hand across his face. Sweat blinded him, dripping into his eyes. Slowly, he sat up, shaking.

There was nothing that seemed to help him stop- he tried pacing, but almost blacked out twice, feeling strangely lightheaded. He tried sitting on the edge of his bed. Nothing would stop the helplessness he felt.

Eventually, he made up his mind, pulled on a shirt and sweater, a pair of pants, and some shoes.

He slipped silently through the front door and began to jog through the streets of St. Louie, using only his distant memories to allow his feet to take him across the sleeping streets, to her.

Suddenly he had stopped without realizing it, and stood, frozen except for his heaving chest, waiting there on her doorstep.

 **Thank you, guys, for reading! To all of you guests to whose reviews I cannot respond to, I cannot be grateful enough! Every bit of your support is incredibly precious!**

 **For Churchlady63, hope you like it, Mon Ami. Au Revior.**


	6. Love is

**Okay, so here's the next chapter. My inner Billy was screaming to be heard, and he is screaming at you, thanking you for reviewing, and asking others to review! (Can you hear him? I know, weird, right?) anyway, enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! I don't own them.**

Billy straddled the small wooden chair backwards, so that his elbows would rest on the back while he shucked peas. His mother stood across the kitchen table from him, rolling out a pie crust amidst a cloud of flour.

He watched her, transfixed as the middle was pushed out and expanded with each roll; her small, strong hands giving the force to do so, and her willpower giving her the determination to make it just exactly as any pie crust should be- round, with slightly uneven edges as to make it the most glorious thing to behold.

She then set aside the wooden roller and dusted off her hands. Billy allowed himself a smile when some of the fine powder settled on her nose, and thinly coated her chestnut ringlets. She was beautiful to him, in all her simple radiance. The maternal care of each long hard year had aged her so, but in a way which had only brought a greater light to her eyes, and even an occasional smile to her lips. After the passing of Billy's father, she had shed but one tear, after bravely announcing, "To be strong, that's all he ever wanted. To be brave, that is a different thing."

And she had been both, in the most unusual way. She had remained the mother he'd always known her to be- gentle, kind, with her own stubborn streak when it was needed most. But she had lost so very much in her life besides her husband to death and her son to a war; her first baby girl was one who would never grow to play outside, or to be raised as any little girl should, in a loving household, surrounded by family. The loss of her as a tiny baby had forever wounded her, and yet, she bore her scars with interminable wisdom. They were not scars to her; they were landmarks on her journey which had thus far, in her eyes, been a good one.

"Billy?" she interrupted his thoughts, and he realized he had stopped working, the knife and pea shuck still in his hands.

"Oh, uh, yes?" he started his work again. Billy loved the way his mother could do that, catch him off guard, and yet not make him feel condemned. It was something he'd missed while away at war.

He didn't hear her coming around the table, or pulling up a chair. If he did, there was no sign to confirm it. Instead he kept that knife flying, and the pile of shucks was beginning to grow as fast as the bowl of peas.

"Billy." She put her hand on his, lowering the knife. She was sitting beside him now. He lowered the knife and shuck, and crossed his arms in front of him on the back of the chair, leaning his chin on top of them. "What is it?" Her voice was the only sound in the kitchen besides a soothing breeze that blew through the open windows. The darkened clouds on the horizon promised a coming summer storm.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't play like you don't know. I've seen you running out of the house at all hours, and you've been restless. You hardly speak to Ryan, except when he asks you something straight on."

Billy sighed, "It's just been hard. Settling in. I keep reaching for a gun I don't have- I keep thinking any minute they're gonna come- the Germans- and I'm going to be the one who can't protect you."

"Oh, my boy. That's not a wrong feeling." She took one of his hands in hers, and clasped it tightly, "It's not wrong at all. You've seen things I pray you'll never have to see again, and known some things so horrible that should you remember…. It would not be wrong for you to want to go back, you know." He glanced up at her when she said that.

"I've been feeling so guilty- and I wondered, why? Why do I want to go back?" he rushed, but she smiled softly, sadly, and replied with words only a mother could have.

"Billy, it's not wrong for a man to want to go back to a place they felt like they belonged. You had your good times, and you had your bad ones. But whatever may have happened out there, you had friends. Brothers, even. And it's only human to want to go back to a place where you felt _wanted._ "

"But that's the trouble, Mom." He frowned, "I thought I'd feel wanted here. Maybe… loved?"

"You know we love you Billy, more than anything else."

"Yeah, I know. But I was hoping…"

"Evelyn?" his mother's eyes drew his gaze up to her face.

"Yes." He answered honestly. "How do I know? If I love her? If she loves me back?"

"Well, Billy, that's something only you can know. When I met your father, we fell deeply in love. I knew that because he told me, and because I knew he was telling the truth, and I loved him back. But falling in love will always be a mystery…. The only way you will know is by asking her." She paused to take a breath, "Falling in love… it's like shucking peas. Sometimes you do it without thinking- and sometimes you think so hard that you forget to do it, and you don't ever get to the good things inside."

"But how do I know?" He asked again, "That I really, truly want to do this?"

She took his face in her hands. Though they were floury, he didn't mind. They were cool, and soft, and smelled of sweet summer days.

"If you really, truly have found your soulmate, you will fall in love with her every time you look at her." She kissed his forehead, and for a swift, fragile moment, held him there. "And you will be willing to move heaven and earth to find her." She looked him in the eye with a seriousness and yet a gentleness that he had not witnessed in years, "And when you find her, you'll know."

 **Next chapter is the last one guys, so I want to just say again, thank you to all of my incredible readers, who have loyally followed this story all the way. So many of you have really touched my life in ways you may never know. Thank you so much! I hope you liked this chapter, thanks for reading! This one is tough for me, as I am not a young soldier returning from war, so please bear with me: ) I'll finish this one soon, I hope. Probably update sometime in the next few days. If not, happy Thanksgiving, and please don't eat so much pumpkin pie that you are too tired to review. That would be a tragedy.**


	7. Raining

**Well, we've come to the last chapter. Sorry its so short. It's been such a pleasure to write for such attentive readers, you guys are honestly the best! Okay, so sorry, I know I promised the other guys in the fic, but it really became Billy's story. So, for everybody out there who loves the other guys, I'll be writing more, don't despair! Saunders will avenge this lack of attention!**

 **Disclaimer: I know I don't have to do this on every chapter, but it's just so much fun! You know what I was going to say…. I DO NOT OWN THEM. Not one. Nope, nope, nope.**

He began to run through the rain, jacket spotted with raindrops, heart thudding in time with his strides.

In his coat pocket was a paper of all the things he planned to say- in truth, he planned to let that paper get soaking wet, so that it wouldn't matter.

Sloshing through the puddles, down the road, the thunder spoke the way summer thunder does- an energized, young sound. The air felt charged, and maybe that's what made Billy fly the way he did. The clouds lay heavy and dark grey in the sky, but for once in his life, Billy adored the rain. It seemed to feed him in a soul-nourishing way.

All that could be heard was the sounds of the summer storm and the heavy breathing of the young man running. Running for his life, his new, real life. He wasn't running from the troubles, the hardships… not running from the war. He was running _towards_ something. Even if he couldn't guarantee it wouldn't leave him hanging on his own words.

Though the ache in his side was growing, his raw determination that overpowered the uncomfortable feeling only grew, and his legs continued pumping.

* * *

He almost missed it, sliding to a stop in front of her door.

Laying several hard knocks on it, Billy yelled, "Evelyn! I wanna talk to you!" He waited a moment and knocked again, "Evelyn!"

The door creaked open, and before she could speak, Evelyn was caught up into Billy's embrace.

"Billy!" her face was glowing as they pulled away, "What…. What is it?" She brushed her hair out of her face, blushing wildly in her budding excitement.

"I've got something to say, Evelyn Monroe, and you'd better listen well."

She watched him suck in a breath. Water dripped over his face, and she felt it riveting down her own. The rain began to increase in amount and noise, so that he was practically yelling to be heard.

"You- you are the most beautiful girl in the world!" He gasped through heaving breaths, "And I don't want to spend another day thinking about it without doing something-" he shouted. Her lips formed a wide, honest smile.

His wet hands took hers and he kneeled, right there in the streets of St. Louie, his home.

"Evelyn, I don't have a ring… I don't have money, or my own house. And I can't guarantee that everything is always going to be okay…. I can't promise there won't be days when we want to _kill_ each other…. But when I look at you…. it's like a little piece of me comes back. A piece I thought I'd gone and lost forever." Rain now poured in full from the heavens, but it was such joyous feeling. Evelyn had to laugh, a small, grateful, crazy laugh, "You are the only thing that I could ever want right now. I know it now. So," he squeezed her hand, "Evelyn Rose Monroe…. Will you marry me?"

She turned her face to the sky, and for a moment, there was only the rain, and the silence of a tired street. But the people there held more. More than sorrow, and death. More than a war. And Evelyn held in her heart, a place for this man. She looked back at him, and drew his to his feet, so they were eye to eye. She opened her mouth and shouted for the world to hear.

"Yes I will, Billy Nelson!"

 **And so, our journey ends- yet, there are still many paths Billy could take. He could re-enlist after marrying Evelyn, or stay at home and become a father…. Who knows…. it's up to you and that incredible thing you have in your mind, imagination! (and like, thirty cups of coffee to jumpstart the thought process and all that:)**

 **Any ideas for a new multi-chapter? I'm open to suggestions. This one was so much fun to write, and an amazing experience as a writer, to expand my expertise. I have never been to war, and have never fallen in love. But I hope it was realistic, and I pray that every man and woman who ever fought a war or will ever fight one-that they might find peace in some way.**

 **Again, thank you all for your support, and I will see you in my next fic!**

 **Equine out.**


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